Don't Let Go
by SentientMist
Summary: "We both knew this could never last, Will."


**AN: **Inspired by Dierks Bentley's "Draw Me a Map." I have been keeping this one safely tucked away on my computer for fear of exposing it to the world. For reasons I'm still unclear on, I have been incredibly reluctant to let it go. Fascinating, right? I mean, with the name and all. Anyway, please treat it with kindness. *pets fic reassuringly*

**Disclaimer:** Again, I am only borrowing them.

**Don't Let Go**

By: SentientMist

"Wait, what?"

"I said you may remain here as long as you need this morning; but tonight, you will be returning to your own bed."

"I don't, Helen." Shaking his head in an effort to clear his mind, Will runs a hand through his hair, watching her, dumbfounded, as she rummages through a drawer.

"It isn't as though you were unaware this day might come, Will."

"Can we talk about this? I need, I don't understand."

"There's nothing to talk about. It is what it is."

Her back is still turned to him, avoiding, distracting. She's clearly dismissing him. Sliding off the bed, he crosses to stand behind her, fingers closing around her arm, turning her. "Hey," he says softly.

Startled blue eyes shoot up, locking with his. She opens her mouth, starts to demand he release her arm, but the hurt written in his expression stops her. She can allow him this moment.

He pins her with the same intense, penetrating stare he uses during investigations, when he's trying to piece things together. She's a puzzle. His favorite puzzle. But today, he simply wants to understand. What happened? What has he done so terribly wrong? They have been careful, taken things slowly. They are just beginning to settle into themselves. He thought they were handling their relationship admirably given their pasts, their futures. He thought they were building something that just may have a chance at surviving in this crazy world of theirs. At least, he had before she woke him.

Her eyes are shadowed, haunted; and they hold an unimaginable depth. The things she's seen, the places she's been, the burdens she's carried, burdens she still carries. They're all there. Hidden, buried in the deep pools of blue. Will loves to look in her eyes. They are his favorite physical trait of Doctor Helen Magnus, his guilty pleasure. A person could get lost for an eternity in those eyes. He's spent hours trying to decipher the secrets they contain. But today, he's searching only for something that will tell him why she's doing this; and he fails to find the answers he's seeking. Today, he can't read her. Today, she's not letting him.

"Helen," he murmurs, moving a hand to her cheek, fingers barely brushing skin, hovering, lingering. "Just…just tell me how to fix this."

Gently taking his hand in one of her own, she laces their fingers together, giving him a sad smile. "We both knew this could never last, Will," she answers quietly. She leans forward, free hand coming up to rest lightly on his cheek as she kisses him tenderly. "I have to go," she whispers as they separate.

Nodding numbly, he watches as she slips out the door and into the hallway.

* * *

He wants to apologize, make things right again, but he doesn't know where to begin, doesn't know what he's apologizing for. It's been days since that morning in her bedroom, days since it seems his world fell apart. She reacts to him no differently than she always has. She's still soft, gentle, loving. He feels the difference all the same. He can feel the distance separating them, growing wider as the minutes and hours tick by. He's no longer sure he can bridge the gap. She's miles away from him, and he doesn't know how to reach her. Will barely remembers a time when he felt quite so lost, vulnerable.

"Ah, there you are. Henry was beginning to worry. You're quite late for movie night." Helen smiles softly, as she crosses the library.

Shit. He and Henry had held a movie night every Wednesday they were home for months. It was a chance to maintain some sort of normalcy, a chance to settle and regroup. "It must have slipped my mind. I should go talk to him." He makes no attempt to move from the sofa.

She nods, studying him. He's grown distant the past few days, reflective. Truth be told, she is worried about him as well. If this is allowed to continue much longer, she'll have no choice but to ban him from fieldwork. They can't afford his distraction. She waits, hoping he'll confide in her as he's done so many times in the past; but he doesn't speak, still staring blankly at the far wall. Finally, she breaks the silence. "Henry's in the lab," she says quietly, turning to leave.

His hand snakes out, grabbing her wrist, halting her. "Please."

"What is it, Will?"

He tightens his hold and Helen fears his grip is going to leave bruises. "Please, just sit with me. Tell me this isn't over. Tell me there's some way I can fix this, something I can do. Tell me you still love me," he finishes, voice barely a whisper.

She offers a sympathetic smile, heart breaking, as she kneels down in front of him. His hand is still glued to her wrist, but she doesn't ask him to let go. Instead, she cups his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet her eye. "Oh, Will. My darling, Will. I feared this would happen. This isn't about love, Will. It's about reality." Emotion overtakes her, and she has to look down, briefly breaking eye contact as she takes a steadying breath. Looking back up at him, she continues, "I'm not going to lie to you, Will. I won't tell you I no longer love you. But you and I cannot continue as we were."

"Please. Tell me what to do," he whispers pleadingly, a silent tear slipping down his cheek.

She's at a loss for words. How can she make him understand? His world and hers will never allow them to be happy. Never allow them to exist as one. Struggling with her own warring emotions, she finds her voice again. "If things were different, perhaps-" She breaks off, dropping her gaze back to the floor with a sigh.

This time it's Will's turn to be the strong one. Loosening his grasp on her wrist, he takes her chin in his free hand, tipping her eyes up to meet his again. "Tell me how to find you, Helen. I could use some direction," he breathes.

"I wish I knew, Will," she murmurs back. Releasing her arm entirely, he pats the cushion beside him. She offers him the barest hint of a smile, curling on the sofa with him.

He stretches out, pulling her with him so they're both lying down. Tugging her against his chest, he notices, for the first time, the reddish-brown fingerprints marring her pale skin. He'd hurt her. "God, I'm so sorry," he whispers, alarmed, as he tenderly wraps a hand around her wrist, hiding the bruises, and places a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

Shaking her head in dismissal, she turns her hand, intertwining their fingers. "It's fine," she sighs, pressing further into his embrace.

She has become his everything. He doesn't know how to tell her he's empty without her at his side, doesn't know how to tell her he no longer exists if she isn't in his life. She is his life. She's home. He can't find the words, so he says nothing, listening to her quiet breathing. He kisses her shoulder again and hugs her body closer, praying this isn't the last time she'll be in his arms.

* * *

It's hours later when Helen finally breaks the comfortable silence that's fallen over them. She shifts and he loosens his hold, allowing her to turn, facing him. "I'm getting too attached," she admits quietly.

Momentary confusion flicks across his face before he finally finds the answer he has been begging her eyes to reveal to him. "To me," he breathes, overwhelmed by the sudden realization.

She nods against him, curling deeper into his warmth. "I didn't expect that to happen. I had no intentions of letting it," she murmurs, words muffled by his chest.

"And you think making me sleep in my own bed is going to resolve that?" he asks gently, running his fingers through her dark curls.

He feels more than hears her sigh. "No," she whispers into his shirt.

"Tell me what you need, Helen," he implores quietly. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to reach you. How do I get you back?" She stays silent, so he continues, whispering against the smooth skin of her neck, "Draw me a map."

"This was never meant to happen," she mutters, but she gives in anyway. "We can discuss our future tomorrow. For now," she pauses, wrapping her arms around him tightly, "just don't let go," she whispers.


End file.
